


Gentleman's Evening

by Dramione84



Series: Rebus [11]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Mild S&M, Romance, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-18 00:14:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9353030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dramione84/pseuds/Dramione84
Summary: When Draco holds a Gentleman's evening it does not sit well with his wife, Hermione.  Pansy suggests a way to make her point.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For xxDustNight88 and Starrnobella with love xx

Pansy’s elegant gloved fingers curled around the handle of the door, tugging it silently open.  Fingering the leather of the leash in her right hand, she turned her head slightly to her left, winking at Daphne, the heels of her too-high black stilettos clicking against the pristine white marble as she lead the way into the lower west wing drawing room of Malfoy Manor.  

 

The three women glanced around the room, their gaze drifting over the casino tables as cigar smoke wisped lazily around the room.  Pansy pouted her painted lips as she schooled her features in a look of disdain.  Across the room, as if on cue and sensing the intensity of her gaze as it settled on him, Draco shifted in the stool where he was sat at a blackjack table.

 

He almost choked on his firewhiskey as he took in the sight of his best friend, Pansy Parkinson, clad in nothing but a black lace corset and high heels, holding a leather leash.  His gaze traveled along the leather until it reached the collar which enclosed his wife, Hermione’s slender ivory neck.  Gulping he watched as the woman he considered his sister in law, Daphne Nott, stepped forward wearing a black corset that matched Pansy’s, a riding crop in her hand.  

 

Beside Draco, her husband Theo turned to witness as Daphne trailed the leather palm of the crop down Hermione’s decolletage, eliciting a shiver from her in response.  Neither man said a word as they watched the palm travel across her breasts and down the bodice of her emerald and black corset.

 

Finally, Pansy spoke, her voice dripping with derision, causing her husband Blaise to turn from where he was in quiet conversation in the corner with his business partner, Marcus Flint.  The grip on his crystal tumbler slacked, the glass slipping from his hand, shattering as it hit the marble floor.

“Come ladies, it seems as though these ‘ _ Gentlemen’  _ have no need for us tonight,”she drawled, before turning on her heel, leading Hermione back out to the hallway, each woman deliberately sashaying their way out of the room for dramatic effect.

 

Once out in the hall, they quickly removed the heels, as they burst into laughter before breaking into a run as their husbands gathered their wits and found their way to the door.

“Hermione?” called Draco as the girls reached the corner.  

 

Struggling to breathe, a stitch forming in Hermione’s side, she was grateful for the fingers that found hers, pulling her forwards as the giggling girls rushed up the west wing staircase in the direction of Hermione’s suite.  Once inside, they fell against the closed door, tears streaming down their faces.

“Can’t...breathe,” Daphne managed as the girls slipped down the door, finding the floor with welcome relief.

 

They had just got their breath back, their giggles subdued when they felt the door go as Draco tried to get into his suite.  Unable to make the door open, or figure out why it was jammed, he pounded on the door, causing the girls to burst into laughter.

“Hermione?” he yelled as Pansy struggled to her feet, Daphne and Hermione scooting to one side as she opened the door slightly.  She looked up at Draco through her eyelashes, her face a perfect picture of innocence.

“Hello, Draco, darling.  Can I help you?” she cooed.

 

Draco curled his lip up in a sneer.  “Yes, I’d like to talk to my wife, if you don’t mind?”

Pansy batted her eyelashes.  “I’m afraid your wife is a little tied up at the moment,” she informed him as Hermione swatted her left calf with the hand she did not have clamped over her mouth to suppress her laughter.  

 

Pansy’s eyes drifted over Draco’s shoulder as her husband, Blaise reached the top of the stairs.  “Ah, husband, I am so glad you could tear yourself away from Mister Flint.  Alas I am a little preoccupied with my own partnership this evening,” she drawled before slamming the door shut.

 

“This is ridiculous,” Draco snapped, wand in hand, as he broke through the charms Pansy had barred their entrance with.  He shoved the door open as Theo reached the top of the staircase, his amusement at the antics of their wives apparent on his face.

 

The three girls looked up from where they were huddled on the bed as Draco strode in, red faced.

“Oh dear, Daddy looks mad,” Daphne murmured, grabbing hold of Pansy’s hand.

“Shit, run,” Pansy giggled, grabbing Hermione’s hand as the three girls made to run from the room.

 

“Not so fast,” Draco barked, his hand darting out and clamping down around Hermione’s free wrist as Daphne and Pansy fled the room.

Silently, Draco closed the door, flicking his wand to wordlessly throw up his own locking charms.  But not, Hermione noted, a muffliato.  Interesting.

 

Hermione flushed slightly, her tongue darting out to wet her lips in anticipation as she felt the arousal build in her abdomen.

“Care to enlighten me as to what the fuck all that was about, wife?” Draco asked, his voice dangerously low.

“It was Pansy’s idea,” she whispered, swallowing hard as he raised an eyebrow at her.  

“I see,” he replied, bending to pick up the riding crop lying forgotten on the floor.  Hermione’s eyes fell to the crop as she swallowed hard once more.

“Turn around,” Draco murmured, his tone commanding.

Hermione complied without question.

“Bend,” he whispered, his voice igniting her fire as she complied, splaying her hands on the mattress.

 

Without warning, he brought the crop down across her flesh, the pain delicious.  Her mouth fell open, her moan falling from her lips before she could stop herself.  She gripped the sheets and he brought it down again, harder.  Behind her Draco chuckled.  She felt his hand knead her flesh, his lips ghosting her earlobe.  “Is this something you would like, Hermione?” he whispered, his fingers finding her slick folds, dragging painfully slowly down her slit.

Hermione nodded.

“Tell me what you want, darling,” he murmured, enjoying the way she responded to his touch.

“I want you to spank me,” she murmured, shuddering as he slipped another finger inside her.

“What else do you want?” he asked, his thumb finding her numb.

“I want you to fuck me, Draco,” she told him, her eyes burning with lust as they found his.

 

Without warning he removed his hand, leaving her groaning at the loss of contact.

“Later,” he winked, striding towards the door, ducking as she threw a pillow at him.  Chuckling, he flicked his wand binding her to the bed as she groaned in frustration at her new found predicament.

 

oOoOoOoOo

 

Sated, Hermione curled into Draco as his hands found their way into her hair.

“Okay, so now tell me what earlier was really about?” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Hermione frowned.  “I told you, it was Pansy’s idea.”

“I figured that much out for myself,” he smirked, his thumb brushing over her cheek as she blushed.

 

Suddenly she sat up, pulling a pillow into her chest.  A look of shock fell across Draco’s face.

Hermione huffed.  “I just think it’s a bit sexest and out dated,” she rushed out, causing Draco to frown as he sat up.

“What is?”

“A gentleman’s evening,” Hermione replied, something Draco couldn’t quite place in her tone.  Anger? Disappointment? Rejection?

“So you three gatecrashed it to make a point?” he asked slowly, clarifying their intentions.

“Yes!” Hermione cried, her voice a mix of frustration and relief that he understood her feelings on this as she had expected much more of a fight to make him see.

  
Draco’s frown deepened.  “How is it any different to when you girls go away to the spa for the weekend?”

Oh.  Maybe Hermione had got ahead of herself, she considered.

“Well of course it’s different,” she spluttered, shocked that he would think the two were comparable.

“How exactly?” he challenged, enjoying the way she got flustered under pressure.

Hermione’s flush deepened as she struggled to find an answer, which only added to her sense of frustration.

“Okay, let me put it this way.  When you girls are at the spa do you talk about Theo, Blaise and I?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Yes,” she replied, her own eyebrows knitting together.

“And if we wanted to come, what would you say?” he asked, giving her a pointed look.

“Why on earth would you want to come to the spa?” she asked, confused.

“Why on earth would you want to come to a Gentleman’s evening?” he countered, amusement on his face.

 

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip as she considered the point her husband was trying to make.  “Okay, well let me ask you this: why do you always leave us out of your plans?”

“Why do you girls leave us out of your plans?” he grinned.

Hermione smacked him with the pillow. “Answer me question!”

“Answer mine!” he laughed, grabbing the pillow, tickling her.

Hermione cried out in frustration.

 

“Okay, fine, fine.  I do see the point you are trying to make.  We should do more things together and exclude you girls less,” Draco conceded.

Hermione sighed, pulling herself up, pressing a tender kiss to Draco’s cheek.

“Thank you,” she whispered, before slipping out of the bed.

Draco frowned.  “Hey, where are you off to?”

“Shower,” she called over her shoulder, as she sheets fell from her body.  “Coming?”

 

Draco didn’t need to be asked twice.


End file.
